A Blog about recording and performing musician Randy Granger told in his words. His life as a songwriter, performer, educator, serious Foodie and full-time musician with all the triumphs, lessons, life on the road observations told with humor, irreverence and reflection. An award-winning composer and songwriter Granger blends Native American flutes, the Hang, voice and world percussion into a completely unique contemporary Southwest World sound.

Randy Granger

In the Chihuahuan Desert near the Organ Mountains, New Mexico

Monday, August 18, 2008

Dog Days of Touring, Poem. And Friends or Fans?

Ah the Dog Days of summer are here in the southwest with long sultry days and occasional thunder-head clouds that look like huge cotton candy icebergs above the Organ Mountains. The green chilie is finally being harvested after too much rain kept fields muddy as cake batter. I’m happy to be home for just a while after tours that resemble long-haul trucker routes. It’s funny that I’ve been thinking about how I’m always a little late to the continental breakfasts at the hotels where I stay. The rare times I actually have a night in the same city where I woke up I head down to the gym, if there is one, then to see what’s left at the breakfast bar. Let me tell you it is competitive sport with people lined up and the baked goods and waffles go first. The only thing left most times is oatmeal and some individual cereal boxes. Myself I’d rather have something more substantial like lasagna, enchiladas or pizza--or just get on the road.

I’m playing at a church this Sunday, something I haven’t done for a while and swore off altogether. Even so, this is a special situation involving a church that really needs some healing, a new minister and because a very spiritually powerful friend asked me to play when she delivers a guest sermon. More local gigs are in line including a show in conjunction with the U.N. International Day of Peace. Check it out and maybe organize something in your area. Would be nice to have an eon of peace instead of just a day but peace is something that begins with the individual then grows from there I think. It is strange being on the road then coming back to your home town and few people know you’ve ever left…ha ha . I know that CD’s are sold one at a time and that fans are made one at a time as well. It is cumulative really. As I continue to work and work and work I’ve hired a radio promotion company to do what I usually do and it is going well. Of course no one ever works as hard as you do but I’m trusting and having faith. Air play and reviews continue to grow for A Place Called Peace and I’m happy about that. I read a quote recently about the music industry; “There are no airbags in the music industry. When it goes wrong YOUR head is going through the windshield.” I’m not fatalistic about it but I do know that you and your listeners make it all happen and every relationship is personal. I try to spend as much time as I can talking to people after gigs, answering emails, questions, listening to every story. Sometimes I’m so tired I feel nauseated but try not to let it show. Sometimes I even hang out with fans, etc. after gigs or accept an invite to come to dinner or stay at their house. That doesn’t always work though. Too often I’m either the brunt of their frustration or they start picking at my amour and finding all the chinks only to realize….OMG….he’s human. Hell yeah I’m human. I need to rethink these offers.

Friends or fans? We’ll I’d like them both. But a friend is someone you need to be able to be yourself around; your “real” self with all the idiosyncrasies, bad hair days, bad smell days and changing mood days. Sometimes I get emails (or at shows) asking what my religious or sexual preference is, how much I paid for my Hang and how I got it, etc. I don’t mind being open at all. But, hey get to know me first or at least buy a CD before we go there eh?

Here is a funny (well I hope it is) poem about my dislike of cereal I read at an open mic last week. Happy Dog Days of summer.

RandyBoxed Mornings

The cereal box mocks meFrom top the pantryJudging me in silence I recallAll the commercials and NPR

Stories “eat breakfast” loose weight Live longer--as if I wanted to--Stuffed with puffed rice shreddedWheat, Life and Corn Chex

I’d rather eat the lasagna fromLast night or potatoes with greenChilie and cheese smothered inLard or tamales with ketchup

Wash it down with chef’sSalad and enchiladas none ofThis filler granola taking Up space like a church of